


you grip (your hands around my throat)

by coffeeren



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Dom/sub, Dominant Tseng, Glove Kink, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sensory Deprivation, Submissive Rufus Shinra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:14:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24528205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeeren/pseuds/coffeeren
Summary: Being everyone's boss is exhausting. Sometimes, Rufus needs to unwind.
Relationships: Rufus Shinra/Tseng
Comments: 6
Kudos: 123





	you grip (your hands around my throat)

**Author's Note:**

> i was honestly starved for dom tseng/sub rufus content and. and this happened.

"Color?" Tseng asks.

"Green," Rufus instantly answers.

He knows better than to turn his head without being told to, but he doesn't need to look to feel Tseng moving closer from where he's kneeling on the bed behind him. Rufus expects the press of the gag against his lips before he sees Tseng's hands.

Tseng leans above him and presses his lips close to his ear before asking, "What do you do if you can't speak and you want to stop?"

Rufus waits, not moving, until Tseng tsks behind him.

"You may answer."

"Snap my fingers three times, sir."

"Good," Tseng praises, and slides the gag in place without missing a beat, its weight familiar and comforting. "Upright now, on your knees," he commands, patting Rufus's hip, and although they've barely started Rufus can already feel himself slipping. He obeys.

His tie comes off first, and Tseng makes him unbutton his shirt, chest pressed against his back and chin hooked on his shoulder, and without looking Rufus knows he's watching his every move. He wasn't told to take the shirt off, so he lets his hands fall when he's done and Tseng slips it off his shoulders, gloved fingers tracing lines down his back, feather-light and full of promises. Tseng's hands find his belt, and Rufus resists the urge to sink back against his chest. Upright, Tseng told him.

"Hands behind your back," is the next order, and Tseng slips away without waiting for him to comply. Rufus tenses immediately at the loss of contact, but he doesn't turn. His eyes are fixed on the headboard, and they stay there when the mattress dips behind him again under Tseng's weight. A gloved hand finds his wrists while another rests on the back of his neck. The leather is cold to the touch, but it might as well be burning.

"Here's what we're doing tonight," Tseng starts, voice low and so close Rufus can feel his breath on his ear, but still, somehow, not close enough. "I don't want you to feel anything that isn't my touch. Right now, I own you and there's no need for you to think or do anything I haven't asked of you. Are we clear? Nod if you understand."

Rufus nods without thinking about it. From Tseng's hum alone, he can tell that he's smiling. The cuffed leather wrapping around his forearms up from his wrists and the blindfold that follows are as expected as the gag, and tension drops from Rufus's shoulders in relief. He's in Tseng's hands now, body and mind.

Pressure between his shoulder blades guides him down until his chest is resting on the bed and he has to crane his neck to the side. It's not particularly comfortable, but it's not bad either, and in any case; he doesn't need to be comfortable, if it's not what Tseng wants. The hand on his back slides down, down, over his ass and the curve of his hip, where it stops, fingers digging into his flesh. Unable to see, speak, and forbidden from moving, Tseng's presence consumes him. Every touch is like an electric shock, even through layers of clothing.

Gently, Tseng pulls him back until he's pressed flush against his hips and slides his hands lower to undo the buttons on his trousers. His fingers barely brush his erection where it's straining against the fabric, but it's enough to make Rufus feel dizzy.

"I believe I don't have to tell you this," Tseng says conversationally, as he drags his trousers down his thighs, "but unless I explicitly tell you to, you're not allowed to come."

Rufus isn't given permission to acknowledge the order, so he doesn't. Tseng strokes the inside of his thigh with praise, and Rufus sighs. They both know that inside this room, his place is wherever Tseng wants it to be. He's always been completely unrepentant in bed. Tseng loves to be in control and will take any and everything he wants from Rufus's body; it just so happens that that is exactly what Rufus wants too.

He feels one of Tseng's gloves, warmer to the touch, pinch the now bare skin on his hip, flinches despite himself, and only then realizes he's let his mind wander. "Can't have that, now, can we?" Tseng asks smugly. Rufus does not react, because he doesn't need to. Tseng knows he's understood — it's a show of trust that fills Rufus with a sense of accomplishment he's never felt about anything else. "Are my gloves enough, I wonder, or should I bring out the crop?"

Rufus waits patiently. It's not his decision to make, so he doesn't bother thinking about it.

"No," Tseng says, softer, considering. "I think we'll stay with the gloves tonight."

The distinct noise of leather on leather rings like a gunshot in his ears, and Rufus doesn't really need to _look_ to _see_ Tseng, slipping his right middle finger inside his left glove and pulling it off, slowly and gracefully like he's done so many times before, like he _always_ does, and if Rufus whines at the mental image alone, Tseng doesn't mention it.

" _Don't_ count," Tseng orders. "Remember how it feels, and nothing else."

So Rufus does. He can tell by way it stings that Tseng must be holding the glove by the fingers, and there's only so much damage a single glove can do, but Tseng is using his strength and aiming at the lowest part of his ass, almost at his upper thighs. They both know he'll be feeling it tomorrow, sitting in his office chair, a secret only they will be privy to, and loves Tseng endlessly for it.

When Tseng finally stops and he hears the glove landing somewhere on the bedside table to his left, Rufus has no clue how many hits he just took. It makes him indescribably proud of himself.

Rufus is acutely aware of the sound of a bottle cap opening and liquid dripping onto leather, of Tseng's bare hand grabbing his ass to spread him open. "I need a little more space now," Tseng says, nudging his calf with a clothed knee. Rufus is only vaguely aware of his knees sliding further apart, pliant in Tseng's hands.

Tseng works him open slowly and in silence, lets him focus on the feel of a single gloved finger sliding in and out of him until the lube warms up to body temperature before adding another one, left hand holding him steady at the hip and rubbing circles into the soft sensitive skin there. He doesn't need to ask when he's ready, because he never does. Rufus doesn't call the shots here. "That's it," Tseng says as he pulls his fingers out. Rufus shivers. He's been painfully hard ever since Tseng ordered him on his hands and knees on the bed.

It takes a lot out of his willpower not to push his hips back when he feels the head of Tseng's cock at his entrance, hot and wet and big and everything he needs. Tseng lets out a shuddering breath that makes him feel dizzy. Tseng is never loud, but by now Rufus's ears are trained to his every sound, and any sign that he's feeling good sends a spark of pleasure down Rufus's body.

He would beg right now, if he could, for Tseng to move along now, but they both know that hurry is not what he needs, and Tseng never gives him anything he doesn't need. He pushes in, patient and slower than anything. Rufus can do nothing but feel as he's stretched open on his cock, both hands now on his ass and smearing leftover lube on his skin. It should be disgusting, he thinks, but it really isn't. Nothing Tseng does to him could ever be disgusting.

Tseng fucks him hard and slow, lets his still clothed legs press up against the back of his thighs, asks him how it feels and doesn't ever ask him for an answer. It feels hot and tight and unbearably good, Rufus thinks anyway. Tseng guides his gloved hand down so he can jerk him off in time with his thrusts, drapes himself over his back enough so that his hair brushes the nape of his neck and Rufus can grab hold of his shirt, just to feel him there. Tseng slides his thumb over the head with a particularly strong snap of his hips, and Rufus knows he'll be gone as soon as he's given the word.

Tseng picks his pace up, just a little, just enough for Rufus to know he's getting close. It's a heady feeling, to know he's the reason Tseng is feeling good. Tseng gasps, closer to his ear now, and Rufus moans in response, muffled by the gag. This is too much, he needs— "Come," Tseng says, not permission but and order, and Rufus does, moaning against the gag in his mouth as Tseng buries himself to hilt. Rufus can feel him come inside him, hips twitching where they're pressed flush against his ass and forehead resting between his shoulder blades.

They stay just like that for a moment, Tseng catching his breath and Rufus enjoying the feel of another warm body so close to his, before Tseng plants a kiss on his spine and straightens up.

He undoes the straps on his arms first, removes the blindfold and unclasps the gag before pulling out. Rufus lets himself fall on the bed, limp and exhausted, relaxed in a way he hasn't felt in weeks. He's also a bit gross, the sheets sticky under him, but right now he can't find it in himself to care. He'll see to it in the morning. Tseng, on the other hand, is thorough, he knows. He will clean up and put everything away, fold their clothes and gather his hair up in a bun before he climbs under the covers with him. Rufus watches him do it, mostly because he can.

"You're dirty," Tseng says, pulling him closer anyway.

"Hm," is all Rufus offers. They're both sweaty and sticky and none of them really mind.

A beat. Then, "Feel better?"

Rufus answers by nudging his nose against Tseng's collarbone and burying his face in his neck with a satisfied sigh. He falls asleep with strong hands rubbing his shoulders, stiff from being bound for so long, heartbeat under his ear and unsaid words on his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> reviews are appreciated <3 thank you for reading


End file.
